Christmas at America's
by M0VED ACC0UNT
Summary: America gets a cold the day before his Christmas party. Russia has a special gift from the heart. Finland gets stuck in an attic. It's just another Christmas party at America's, and things are going great. No, those aren't police sirens you hear. They're sleigh bells.
1. Chapter 1

America had been prepared since the first day of December. He dressed in a Santa suit nearly everywhere he went, blasted Deck the Halls for two hours straight ending with a noise complaint from his neighbors, and of course, prepared for the event of the season: his annual Christmas party.

"I rented out this really awesome ski place," he'd said so often that almost all the nations knew it by heart. "And I went and chopped down this HUGE tree, even bigger than last years! You guys are all coming, right?" Which many had agreed to, knowing America would repeatedly insist otherwise.

The holidays always seemed to lift his spirits even more, if such a thing was possible. The sparkle in his eyes brighter, the extra spring in his step, the need to sing everywhere he went grew stronger. If there was a time of the year America's spirit was at its peak besides the Fourth of July, it was the winter holidays.

This is why it was so jarring to see a drowsy America trudge through the doors of the meeting room on December 24th, wiping his nose with a wool blanket and greeting the other nations groggily, "Hey guys."

Almost everyone in the room looked up. England, who had fully expected and had braced himself for America to barge in yelling, _"CHRISTMAS IS ALMOST HEEEEERE!"_ looked up in concern. Heavy bags were under his eyes, his nose was as red as the legendary reindeer himself, and there was sway in his steps as he made his way over to the only remaining seat beside Russia.

He sniffled as he sat down. "Sorry I'm late. I was decorating my roof last night." He hugged the blanket tighter around himself. "I think I fell asleep on it." He shivered. "Man, it's cold in here. Did someone turn on the AC?"

"You sound sick." France said. "You should head home and rest. Eye bags are quite dreadful."

"Nah, I'm fine." America rested his head down on the table. "Just let me rest my eyes for a sec…" His eyes drooped shut. Germany stood up. "We'll keep this brief, since we are all eager to get back to our hotels. Those attending America's Christmas party," He glanced over towards America, who was out cold. "If there will still be one. It appears-"

America's eyes shot open, and he sat up. "No way! Of course there's gonna-" He clutched his forehead, for his vision began to spin. "-be a party. You guys won't bail on me, right?" England sighed. "You're sick. You might need the day off to rest." America shook his head slowly. "Nope, I'm just fine. I'm…" His eyes drooped again, and he felt his head slowly return to the desk.

Germany continued. "In any case, if the event there is, "He took a quick glance towards America. "Altercations, I'm sure we can work it out. So long as-"

A loud snore came from America. Nations glanced his way for a moment, before returning to Germany. He continued, "Also remember:-" The snoring continued. Germany sighed. "All right. Could someone please wake him up?" Russia stood up and reached for his coat, only for half of the room to scream, "NO!"

England walked over and shook him awake. His head shot up. "Wha-? Oh." His head barely lifted off the desk. He looked around the room. "What's up?" Germany stood up. "America, I'm sorry you're feeling ill. You may go home and rest. We will figure out tomorrow's plans." America sat up. "What? What are you talking about? I'm the shape of hea-" He shot up out of his chair to stand, only to sink back down again. "Whoaaa. Why's the world spinning?" He gripped the chair to try and steady himself, only to collapse on the floor.

"America!" England stood up. "You alright?" America murmured, face down on the floor, "I like this carpet. Can I sleep here?" England walked over and pulled him up by the arm. "Come on. You're going home." America weakly protested as he was dragged off the ground, "Nooooooo..." England led him out of the room.

He shut the door and placed a hand on America's forehead, which was indeed warmer than usual. "Bloody hell, you are sick." He supported him on his shoulder as they made their way down the hallway. "Nah, it's just a cough." America staggered. "Did someone turn on the heater?"

"When you get home, you better rest." England said.

"I'm _fine_. I'm walking aren't I?" America's knees gave out, and England caught him just in time. "Besides, I still got to head up to that uh...place. With the snow and the house. "He shook his head. "And my roof, I think it's broken-

"Whatever happened to your roof, it can wait. You're going home, and you're taking a nap. Okay?"

America groaned.

By the time he finished dropping America off at his house, the meeting had already ended. "How is he?" France asked. England shook his head. "Still in denial. Told him to get his flu shot." France sighed. "Poor America. He's been talking nonstop about his party all month."

"We know." Nearly the entire room said in unison. England nodded. "What a shame. I was actually thinking of going this year."

"Don't you go every year?" asked France.

England glared. "Oh, who asked you?"

"This would be the one year I wouldn't be alone." Russia said. "He was so nice to invite me this time. It would've been nice change from sitting alone listening to the silence of winter." The room went quiet. "Da, it sounds just like that."

"Well it's not like he's canceling." England shrugged. "You know him. He'll go to Walmart at two in the morning and buy out the entire store if he has to."

Finland stood up. "Hey, we should surprise him! Go over to the place and finish his decorating. Wouldn't that be nice?"

While the nations made plans to meet up, Russia walked over to Canada. "Do you know where America lives?" Canada jumped. "Wh-What? Why do you want to know?" Russia held up the blanket which America was wrapped in earlier. "I think he left this. He is probably cold, da?"

"Oh uh, I can give him that later." Canada held out his hand to take it, but Russia didn't budge. Canada sighed. "You want to do it, don't you?" Russia smiled. "It is his present." Canada chuckled. "Uh, sorry. That's already his." Russia looked confused. "But I give it to him."

"That's an...interesting choice of words. I mean um, why don't you make him something? Don't they say best gifts come from the heart?" Russia's face lit up. "Great! I have idea! But where does he live?" Canada sighed and reluctantly gave him the address.

"Thank you, Canadia."

"It's-" Russia was already out the door. "-You're welcome." Canada called, "Oh! Make sure he rests, and don't let him leave the house." He paused for a moment, "And please don't use the pipe!" Russia called back, "Okay!"

* * *

After the fifth knock on the door, America answered with a yawn. "Oh hey. You're early. I just finished packing." Russia greeted him with a smile. "It is time for you to sleep."

America blinked slowly. "Uh, okay?" He laughed, interrupted by a cough. "Don't think a little fever could stop me from kicking your ass, bro." Russia's face fell. "I have only come to give you your present." America's face lit up. "Really? Aw, thanks man. We were going to do presents at the party, but-"

"You cannot leave house."

"...Is this a hold up?"

"I'm going to give you your present now." Russia placed his hands over his chest. With a soft popping sound, he held out a beating heart in his hands. He reached for his coat, dug around in it for a bit, then pulled out a bow and stuck it on top. "Merry Christmas." America's reaction was brief but immediate. His eyes widened and rolled to the back of his head, and he hit the floor.

When he regained consciousness, he was lying on his couch, a knitted blanket placed over him. He shuddered. He knew you were supposed to have weird dreams when you were sick, but that was just disturbing.

"Are you feeling better?"

He could've sworn that was Russia's voice. He turned on his side, facing the fireplace. Wait, that on the coffee table. Was that-?

He screamed, bolting up out of his couch, ignoring the pounding in his head. "Is something wrong?" He could hear footsteps coming closer, and looked up to see the all-too-real Russia standing in his house. "How is your head feeling?"

"Whyareyouinmyhouse and whatthehellisthatonthetable?" America's words came out so fast he nearly lost his breath. He exhaled, and sank back down on the couch. "That is your present, remember?" Russia said. America's face went pale as he recalled earlier. "Haha. Real funny." He laughed nervously. "That's not real, is it?"

"Da. It was mine, now it is yours. You go to sleep after seeing it for some reason." America stared at the still pulsing heart lying in the table, with a red ribbon bow on top. "Um," he said after a while, "I think you need that more than I do."

Russia frowned. "You don't like it?" America shook his head. "No, no, I do! It's uh, really thoughtful." Russia grinned. "It is from the heart." America nodded slowly. "Yeah. I can see that. But uh, don't you need that? You know, to live?"

"Don't be silly. We are nations, we can survive the plague."

"You did, at least."

Russia picked up his heart. "I think you will like it better. It won't fall out of you." It beat rhythmically in his hands. "It is becoming very annoying how much it falls out. I think it will be better with you. Besides," he said, "They say the way to fix it is to give it to someone else."

"Uh…" America raised an eyebrow. "Wow that was pretty smooth." Russia turned his head to the side. "What was?" America forced a grin. "Well, thanks. That's one way to do a pickup line." He slowly reached out, grabbing the heart, still beating in his hand. He tried not to freak out. "I'll uh, treasure it forever."

"I'm sorry I wasn't able to go store at two in the morning."

"I've tried that. Crazy, but fun." He placed the heart on the counter. "Thanks, Russia. You didn't have to do that...You REALLY didn't have to do that." He looked at the heart, then at Russia. "You sure that's safe?" Russia nodded. "Alright." America glanced at the clock. "Whoa. I was out for an hour? I better start heading up there now." He began to sit up, but Russia held out his hand. "You are too sick. You must rest." America groaned. "Not you too. Come on, I told you I'm fine. I took a nap!"

Russia's phone suddenly went off. He reached into his pockets pulled it out, he checked it. The text was from China: _We're on our way. Where are you?_ Russia typed back: _With America. I make sure he doesn't leave._

"Seriously dude, I gotta head up there now."

"You cannot." Russia's phone went off again. China responded: _What are you doing there? Get over here!_ He looked up from his screen. "You should take another nap." He reached for his coat. America's eyes widened. "Hey, can I borrow your phone for a sec?" Russia nodded and handed him his phone.

America quickly typed: RUSSIA'S IN MY HOUSE AND I THINK HE HAS A GUN OR A PIPE OR SOMETHING CALL THE COPS. After deleting the message after it was sent, he handed it back. Russia smiled, and turned around to reach for something in his coat. America got up and headed for the fireplace, reaching for the poker. Right before Russia could turn back around, he grabbed it and raised it in attack. Russia looked back up and raised an eyebrow, with a storybook in his hand.

"I was going to read you a bedtime story?"


	2. Chapter 2

America had a few options at this point, all of which seemed plausible: stand down and fight, fireplace poker vs. book, which seemed fair to win enough even in his condition. (Though God knows how creative Russia could get with even just a book as a weapon.) Or two, lie back down and hear him out, because he was honestly kind of tired.

While he contemplated on this, Russia offered a smile and said, "I'll make you some soup."

Free food sealed the deal. That and he was too tired to think of anything else. "Alright." He shrugged, placing the poker back beside the fireplace, though still right in his sights, and headed back towards the couch. "One story. And a bowl of soup. Then we go." Hopefully it would be a quick one.

Russia sat down beside him and tucked him in with a blanket.

* * *

"Sweden? Could you come here for a second?"

"Hm?" Sweden poked his head into the living room piled high with presents. He could barely see Finland over the mountain of gift wrapping and ribbons blocking the door. "Sorry. I'm still moving stuff out." Finland was decked out in his yearly Santa suit, for tonight was his duty to deliver all of these presents and more. "Have you seen the list?"

Sweden nodded, rolling out a scroll that fell to the length of the room. Finland scanned through the names. "Let's see...Oh no." He ran back towards the pile of boxes towards the back of the room. Sweden's eyebrows furrowed. "What is it?"

"There must have been a mistranslation. America asked for Beats." Finland opened one of the presents and pulled out at a bag of rotting vegetables. "Not beets." Sweden frowned. "I must have misread that. Sorry."

Finland patted him on the back. "Don't feel bad. Easy first mistake. I'll place an order right now." He smiled. "Thanks so much for helping me out this year." A trace of a smile crossed Sweden's face.

A moment later when he was back to his list, he noticed something off. "Hey, I'm pretty sure Norway didn't ask for "a steaming pile of _lort_." He sighed, reaching for his phone. After dialing, Denmark picked up almost immediately. "Hey! How's that list coming along?"

"Don't touch my list!" Finland yelled. Laughter was heard on the other end before he hung up. Finland shook his head. "Well if that's all he did-Oh, no. An eyebrow waxer for England." He could hear Sweden chuckle at that one. Almost as if on cue, a text from England popped up. "Speak of the devil."

 _America's freaking out, must be the fever. He might be a bit later than we planned._

Barely a second later:

BLOODY HELL HE WASN'T KIDDING RUSSIA'S IN HIS HOUSE I JUST CALLED THE POLICE, PLEASE GET OVER HERE AS SOON AS POSSIBLE oh and Happy Christmas.

Finland stared at the screen. "Oh dear…"

* * *

"Wait, I'm confused. You were a prince and a tsar?" If America has no interest in the story before, he sure had now. He lied in Russia's lap, mainly due to the comfy pillow he had there. Russia chuckled. "That was not me. Only people who share my name. Two people, actually."

"Wait, so why's there two guys named Ivan?"

"There are more than two Ivans in the world, silly. How many Alfreds do you think there are?"

America folded his arms. "Well duh."

"But if you were not talking during the entire second half, you would have noticed it is different Ivan because it is a different story."

"What?" Dude, I said one story!"

"And every time I finish, you say, "What happened next?" So I continue. We went through five now."

America blinked. "...So what did happen next?"

Russia smiled and shut the book. "Baba Yaga ate you because you talk too much. The end." America rolled his eyes. "Ooh, scary." Russia grinned. "You want to see scary? Would you like me to read you cautionary tale?" America shook his head so fast his head started to spin. "No thanks, man! Save it for Halloween."

Russia flipped to the back of his book. "In the depths of the night-"

"Nope!" America smacked him with a pillow. Russia turned his head slowly and cracked a grin. Before America could react, Russia lifted up the entire couch cushion and smacked him with it. "Ow. Showoff." America muttered from underneath. Russia smirked, lifting the cushion off of him. "It is merely matter of who has the power weapons."

"I'll have you know we have them twice that size."

Russia narrowed his eyes. "Oh really?"

"Yeah, really." They stared each other down for a moment before bursting into laughter. "Ah man." America coughed. "This was easier when we hated each other." Russia chuckled. "True. But this is more fun."

A timer from the kitchen dinged. Russia stood up. "Your soup must be done." He walked into the kitchen and emerged after a few moments with a bowl of hot soup in his hands. He set it on the coffee table. America sat up and picked it up. "Thanks dude." His voice hoarse from all the laughing.

He found his hands moving towards his chest, not an ache, but feeling of heaviness weighed him. Breathing in and out, he tried to steady it again. "Hey, you okay?" He barely heard America's voice as it only got worse. "Da. I-I am fine." He stood up. "I will be back." He made his way down the hall towards the restroom.

The cold water that splashed on his face only awakened his senses. He placed a hand on his chest again, right where his heart once beat. This feeling was nothing like the ones that plagued him for centuries. No guilt, joy, or grief would affect the beat of his heart any longer. Quiet. Just as he wanted it. That's what it felt like.

He remembered how much he hated the quiet.

A soft knock on the door was heard. "You doing okay?" A sudden jerk of the hollow feeling again, along with silence. "Yes. I am better now." He blocked it from his thoughts as he opened the door. "Do not worry about me. You are the sick one, da?"

"Barely. I took your ass down in that pillow fight." Russia managed a grin. "Seriously, you look pale. You sure?" Russia looked back as they went down the hall. "The best I have been in years."


	3. Chapter 3

By that evening, the SWAT Team, along with the Secret Service, was posted outside the house. The standoff had lasted a solid ten minutes, yet neither the choppers or the megaphone announcement seemed to catch the owner's attention. Knowing America, he'd either soundproofed his house or was sleeping.

England paced the lawn, stopping mid-step to face the head of the operation. "No, just take your time. It's not like he's at gunpoint or anything!"

"Sir, please calm down-"

"Are you serving the United bloody States or not!" He was pulled aside by France. "You're making a bigger scene than this needs to be." He called back to the agents. "Don't mind him. He has issues." England shot a glare his way. "Probably a little tipsy."

England scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous." He pulled out a flask from his pocket and took a quick swig. "I'm perfectly sober. Now somebody break down a door already!" His screaming match continued, barely drowning out the news reporter who arrived at the scene from across the street. "The holidays take a terrifying turn this evening for this suburban family-"

"Oh hell no!" Romano ran over towards the interviewer. "We're not related! None of us. Except me and him." He jerked his head towards Italy, who was lingering by the sidewalk with the other nations. He waved to the camera as it panned on him. The reporter cleared his throat. "As I was saying," the camera panned back onto him, "Nineteen year old Alfred Jones sits captive in his own home. What led up to this tragic event is up next."

The cameraman was about to shut off the camera when Prussia ran up to it. "HAS ANYONE SEEN A LITTLE BIRD? HE'S THIS SMALL," he held up two fingers barely inches apart, "HIS NAME IS GILBIRD, AND HE JUST RAN OFF WITH HIS GIRLFRIEND, A PIGEON OR SOMETHING. PROBABLY AMERICAN. IF YOU'VE SEEN HIM, PLEASE CALL-" The cameraman took back his camera as the filming light shut off, and Prussia was quickly escorted off the lawn.

The headlights of a bright red car pulled up to the curb just blocks away from the scene. Finland and Sweden hopped out. Finland took one look at the scene and shook his head. "I knew I should've brought the rifle." He turned towards Sweden. "I'll be back." He had almost forgotten he still had his Santa outfit on until he heard America's neighbors from the sidewalk:

"Santa!"

"Oh my God HE'S REAL!

"He looks like a boy."

He went around to the neighbor's yard and hopped the fence. He landed on the snow covered lawn, and took a look up at the side of the house. He wished he could've brought his sleigh for an easy ride up there, but that would've drawn "unnecessary attention". Luckily, he'd had backup plans for scenarios like this, for he had fallen off a surprising number of houses before.

Reaching into his red felt pockets, he pulled out a red grappling hook. He swung it around before tossing it up towards the roof, where it stuck a landing on the drain pipe. Looking back towards the lawn to make sure he was unnoticed for the time being, he began climbing up. This didn't last long however, as one of the neighbors felt the need to scream, "Ayyy, he's breaking in!"

The click of rifles was heard all across the yard, as Finland looked back to see America's Secret Service aiming at him. He whirled around. "You fire, and you wake up with a stocking full of coal and a life full of regret!"

These words sent the American agents' weapons to the ground. Finland grinned, and continued his way all the way up to the rooftop. "Sir, get down from there immediately! That roof is extremely unsafe!" He heard one of the agents announce over megaphone.

"That's Santa, bro! He knows what he's doing!" Another one of the neighbors shouted back.

Finland hoisted himself up on top of the roof. Just as he was about to breathe a sigh of relief, he looked down to see that agent hadn't been kidding, and was recalled to when America mentioned doing something to his roof. Finland wasn't sure what in the world he had tried to do, but whatever it was, it demolished half of the roof. In one corner, it appeared America had attempted to paint the asphalt shingles red and green, but stopped midway through. Two strings of lights hung lazily over the right side, one looking like it would fall any second now.

The chimney looked completely demolished, as if someone had shoved a stick of dynamite down there (and with America, he wouldn't be surprised. Whatever was done with the chimney must've been attempted throughout the rest of the roof, as there were holes scattered across the middle.

* * *

"I forgot to ask. What happened to your roof, America?"

"Huh? Oh uh," America yawned. "I tried putting some lights all over the roof, but then realized I didn't have enough. Then I tried painting it and was like, "nah." But then I had this idea that would've been totally awesome if it had worked: Fireworks!" He reached for a tissue and blew his nose. "They were gonna go off right at 12 on Christmas Day, but um…they kind of all went off at once."

* * *

 _Okay, the chimney might still work._ Finland winced at the charred remains of brick surrounding what was left of the chimney. _Maybe through one of those holes?_ From down below through the holes, wooden beams stuck out and you could barely see parts of the attic. _No, I'll just get stuck in there. I have to be careful…_ He cautiously made his way around, feeling the roof creak with each step.

He heard the neighbors below chanting, "Santa! Santa! Santa!" He was now steps away from the chimney. _Almost there._ He was finally reached the edge of the chimney. He looked back down at the mini-audience that had gathered in the street below, and the nations that were hanging by the sidewalk. England shouted up at him, "Hurry up!"

He climbed up to the top of chimney. The cover had been blown off, so there was no need to remove it. He glanced back down at his spectators, winked, and jumped to land straight inside the hole. Unfortunately, he mistepped and tripped forward, falling off the chimney and landing on the roof, which gave out under him within half a second. He landed with a thud on the attic floor.

"This just in, tonight at five. A Santa's attempted rescue gone wrong."

* * *

"Did you hear something?"

America looked up towards the ceiling where the crashing noise had sounded. "Probably my heater. It keeps making these weird grinding noises at night. I gotta go get that fixed soon. Hey-" He was cut off by his own cough, followed by two more. "What time is it?" His voice sounded hoarser.

"Time for you to finish soup." Russia moved the spoon towards America's lips. He reluctantly ate it, the soup warming his throat. "Party's at five. Can't leave everyone waiting…" His eyelids slowly drooped. Russia placed a hand on his still burning forehead. "You will call everyone and tell you still need hour for nap." America groaned. "I'm not missing my party, no matter how surprisingly nice it is here with you, or how I'm somehow feeling awesome and like crap at the same time, and-" He coughed again.

"You will be how you say, fashionably late?"

America's coughing fit stopped. "Fine. Half an hour." He didn't want to admit it, but it was clear on his eyes that he needed the rest. "I'll text-Wait, my phone." He felt his pockets and looked around the room. "Crap. Do you have yours?" Russia nodded. "I will get it. I think I dropped it somewhere." The buzzing noise that came from the far side of the couch under the cushion confirmed. "Oh, here it is." Russia dug out his phone. America blinked. "I thought I was hallucinating. I've been hearing that and police sirens all night."

Russia's inbox was full of 90 missed calls from England, 34 from China, and at least 100 different texts saying: _RUSSIA NO_. And _PLEASE GET OUT OF HIS HOUSE_. His face fell, and typed back: _I am sorry I did not tell you. I am taking good care of him, he should be ready soon. He needs to sleep._ Turning it on silent, he placed it on the counter. He walked back over to the couch and smiled.

"Since bedtime stories excite you too much, we will try lullaby this time."

America sat up. "Wait, you sing?" Russia nodded, his cheeks turning slightly red. "Da, sometimes." He tucked America in with his blanket, readjusting his pillow. "Now close your eyes and relax." America took a deep breath and slowly lied back down. His suddenly eyes shot open. "Is it one of those creepy ones? No offense. I mean, we kinda got one about a baby in a tree, and then it falls-" he coughed again. "Sorry. Go ahead." He shut his eyes again.

He took a moment, the crackling of the fireplace and the beating of his heart seemed to form a slow rhythm. He looked longingly toward the heart on the table, pulsing life, then shut his eyes. It was America's now. He'd take far better care of it than he ever could. The rhythm continued, and he imagined the centuries ago when his sister's voice would resonate, along with her steady heartbeat beside him as he fell asleep. He took a breath and began:

"Баю-баюшки-баю,

Не ложися на краю,

Прийдет серенькмй волчок,

И укусит за бочок."

With the softness of his voice, he could feel Alfred steadying his breathing, slowly relaxing. "That's nice…" he heard him murmur after the song was over. "Would you like to hear in English?" America muttered something whether dreaming or not, and Russia continued:

"Sleep-sleep-sleep,

Don't lie close to the bed side,

Otherwise a grey wolf will come,

And bite you."

America probably would've commented something on the lyrics had he not already drifted off into sleep. His light snoring now resonated with the fireplace and steady heartbeat. Russia relaxed, lying back next to him.

Barely minutes seemed to pass, and the hollow feeling returned again. He grimaced, trying to focus on the sound of his breathing, anything but the heartbeat on the table beating steadily as if he were calm. He found his eyes drifting back towards it on the table, but made no move towards it.

The sudden pounding snapped him out of his reverie, for a moment thinking it was the heartbeat's increase in sound. Another loud pounding came from the front door. It had suddenly occurred to him that maybe those were sirens they've been hearing for the past hour. With a final thud and a crash, the Secret Service came pouring from the front door, and with another crash, the window.

America woke with a start, and he and Russia screamed in unison.

 **Russia's lullaby is an old nursery rhyme from there. I don't own the words.**


	4. Chapter 4

"Breaking news: the SWAT Team is now placing orders to move in. There has been no evidence the kidnapper is armed. This dramatic night is now reaching his peak."

"About time!" England staggered onto the lawn. "Now you go in there and you-UNHAND ME AT ONCE, YOU SCOUNDREL!" He was escorted off the lawn by one of the agents. "The nerve! I'll have you know I'm-" France had to drag him off again.

"While highly trained and outnumbering them by far, no one can know what to expect in that house. Armed and dangerous or not, they'll be put to a stop tonight. Stay tuned." The camera whirled over to the front door, where the agents were closing in, pounding on the door. The camera lifted its view over to the side of the house, where Sweden was attempting climb up onto the roof. Denmark was laughing, Norway was shaking his head, and Iceland was down below on the sidewalk pretending to not know them. Meanwhile, the front door was burst in with a loud crash.

While both cried out it unison, Russia's yell of surprise was brief compared to America's, whose extended to, "AAAAAHIHADTHISNIGHTMAREWHEREAWOLFBITMEINTHEASS-" He stopped to cough, then looked up to see themselves surrounded by his own SWAT Team at gunpoint. "Oh hey guys."

"Mr. Jones, are you alright?" The head director came forward. "What? Oh yeah, I'm fine." America yawned. "I mean, I got a little cold, hate to admit it." Russia turned towards him. "You finally admit it!" America shrugged. "Just a little! I'm still good for tonight." He looked back over to the armed agents. "So uh, what's with the guns-oh." He laughed nervously. "You guys know Russia, right?"

"Might I ask why you called the police on The Russian Federation?" The head agent asked. America's stomach dropped. "Oh yeah. Forgot about that…" Russia frowned. "You call your government on me? I thought you like having me here."

"No, I was! I am! Just uh, I think at the beginning when you first got here, and kind of freaked me out. That was probably when-"

"It's here that the drama finally came to a close." The reporter and his cameraman stuck their heads through the door. "Nineteen year old Alfred Jones is in safe hands at last-"

"Get out of my house!"

The reporter reluctantly stepped back. England, France, and most of the other nations came storming in. "America!" He ran over to him. "Are you alright?" America laughed. "I'm fine. You all act like you thought Russia was gonna kill me or something." The room went silent. "So uh, false alarm?" America's laugh was met with silence again. "This is really awkward."

"This is some Oprah shit." The reporter made his way back in. He turned to his cameraman. "Sully, you getting this?"

"Dude, get out!"

The agents lowered their weapons and began to disband. "Please call sparingly next time, Mr. Jones." The director muttered. "Neither this nor a late night McDonald's run is an emergency." The rest of the nation began to file in. America smirked. "Well hey. At least everyone came this year."

England glared. "I only came because I thought you were dead!"

Russia's face fell. "Did you really all think I hurt America on Christmas Eve?" A few nervous, hesitant answers went around. "Of course not." France said. "Well yes…but no." Estonia made his way forward. "I thought this was his old, "Oh hey, General Winter is mean and cold today and I lock door so you could stay for the day, da?" trick." Russia smiled. "You know me so well, Estonia. But that was not what I was doing."

"You did say I couldn't leave my own house." America said.

"I did." Russia turned back towards everyone. "I am sorry for scaring you all. And I am sorry if I scared you, America." America smiled. "Hey, don't worry about it. That's just you. We love you anyways." Russia's face lit up. "You do?"

"Awwww damn!" The reporter snuck in yet again.

"GET OUT!" Everyone shouted, and the reporter finally took off. "I want to try to stop scaring everyone." Russia said. "So to start, you will not have to worry about heart falling out anymore." He turned towards America. "It has new owner now. He will take good care of it." It took everyone else a moment to notice the heart on the coffee table. "Oh, is that what that is?" Canada pointed towards it.

Russia nodded. "Da. You remember meeting where it fell out, right?"

France gulped. "I try not to."

"Well, it will not happen again." He smiled. "Now don't we have party to get to?" America sat up. "Yeah! Let's go-" He staggered off the couch, almost tripping over the coffee table. England sighed. "I'll drive." They began to head out the door. "Don't forget your present!" Russia held up the heart. "Yeah, uh, I'll wrap this later." America took it.

The nations left the house and were met with applause from America's neighbors. "Al, you're alive!" One of them called. "I am, bro! Merry Christmas!" America waved back. He could've sworn he heard screaming from the attic, but maybe it was just his imagination.

After a short ride which seemed like hours with America's off-key screeching of Christmas songs and in the backseat, they arrived at the place. The lodge rest on a snow-covered hillside, lights outlining the roof. America hopped out of the car. "Nice, isn't it? And oh my God it's cold." He shivered. "I got something awesome to show you guys, come on!" He staggered his way the fast he could in the snow. "Easy there." England held his arm.

When they arrived on the doorstep, America pulled out his key. "I didn't really have time to set up," He unlocked the door, "Sorry if it's-" He didn't even have to flip on the light switch to be nearly blinded by the light as pulled the door open. The tree stood nearly to the ceiling, covered in strands of lights of red and green all around. Across the room, the walls were lined with tinsel, holly, and just about every decoration available on shelves that month.

"Holy. Crap." America was speechless for once. He stepped into the room. "Did you guys-?" Greetings of "Merry Christmas" in different languages went across the room. "Finland helped us out." Italy said. "He helped us break in!" America's face lit up almost as bright as the room. "This is seriously awesome, thanks guys! Hey speaking of that, where is Finland?"

"Probably around delivering presents."

"Alright then!" America ran into the house. "Let's get this party started!" His phone suddenly buzzed. He pulled it out and read a new text:

 _We've been stuck in your attic for a half hour now. The SWAT Team must have forgotten about us. Please help._

 _-Finland_

* * *

Finland was having a wonderful time. Half an hour of being locked in an attic was probably the highlight of his night. On top of that: poor Sweden had climbed up earlier to try and help him, only to fall right though with him. They now sat locked from the inside with a dusty attic full of year-round holiday decorations. They found at least ten boxes of streamers and seventy packets of glow sticks. (They didn't have much else to do down there).

"I would call the police," Finland said, "But this looks too much like breaking and entering, doesn't it?" Sweden nodded. "Hey, it's not so bad in here." He took a step backwards and the floorboards gave a creak.

After about twenty or so minutes, they could've sworn they heard someone familiar yelling outside. "Is that…Denmark?" Sweden and Finland stood up. The voice yelled louder. "HEY GUYS! CAN YOU HEAR ME?"

"Yes!" Finland shouted back.

"America sent us!" Denmark's voice echoed. "We got his spare key, so we're going to come in! Iceland and Norway are here too!" They couldn't see them from here, but no doubt Norway was shaking his head and Iceland was on the other side of the street pretending not to know them.

They heard the front door open, and a few arguing voices. They heard footsteps coming up the stairs until finally, Denmark pulled down the attic door. "Hey guys," He popped his head into the dusty room. "Sorry we're late. What'd you guys do in here the whole time?"

"Nothing really." Finland and Sweden stood up. "Some of the neighborhood children tried climbing the roof until the police ordered them down."

The Nordics headed downstairs and back out into the front lawn, where they were greeted with cheers the moment they stepped outside. "Santa's okay!" A kid yelled. Finland waved over at the crowd that had been gathered at the sidewalk nearly all evening.

"Santa, why did you get stuck?" Another kid yelled. "You're not that fat this year!"

"So how are we getting back?" Iceland asked. Denmark's eyes widened. "Ah, crap! We won't make it on time!"

Finland chuckled. "Don't worry. I've got the fastest flying vehicle in the world, remember?"

* * *

America lasted a solid five minutes before crashing on the couch. "Wake me when it's present time. No wait, caroling time. But what about movie time? Actually, you know what, just wake me in ten." The party was by no means quieter with him napping, as Prussia was busy doing dance moves that should never be considered when hearing Christmas songs, much to the dismay of Austria. China was arguing with someone in the kitchen, and Romano and Italy argued over the TV.

Russia sat down next to America. "Your parties are never dull. Thank you for inviting me." America yawned, scooting closer to him. "Hey, no problem. Can't believe you guys did all this, this is awesome. Wish I had more time to finish up the food, though." Russia smiled. "Don't worry about that. China is handling food. England offered, but…" They both grimaced.

Russia chuckled, before the twang of emptiness filled him again. The dull expression showing on his face, America sat up. "What's wrong?" Russia shut his eyes and inhaled. The emptiness still lingered. "One second." He rose off of the couch, and the feeling seemed to rise to his head. He barely took a step before he collapsed to the wooden floor with a thud.

He heard the others approaching him as he attempted lifted him off the ground. He managed a, "I am fine," only to collapse again. His hands went to his chest. The ache was gone, the wave of dull passing through his body. He felt himself being turned around, lying flat on his back. There was talking, he could tell, distant as it was. One voice finally cleared.

"Can you hear me?"

"Yes." He answered America clearly. Sighs of relief were heard. "How do you feel right now?"

"Nothing."


	5. Chapter 5

"Okay, nothing. When you say nothing, you mean like no problem, or like…nothing?"

Russia hesitated for a moment. "Like nothing." He heard murmuring go around the crowd. America nodded. "I think it's safe to say you need your heart back." Russia shook his head. "No, it is not mine anymore." America sighed. "Come on, you really need it. I don't know what's happening right now, but it doesn't look good."

"Don't be silly, I will live."

"When was the longest time you've been without your heart?" America asked. Russia stopped to think. "I'm not sure. It was so long ago." America nodded. "How long have you been without it today?" He paused. "A few…hours I think."

"You came by at four." America glanced at the clock. "It's about six right now." He looked back. "You said you'd be safe." Russia was looking paler by the second. "I am." His voice sounding stronger than he looked at the moment. "This is part of the change. I will feel better soon." He said. "You won't have to worry about me being scary anymore. It's okay now, even that Mr. Heart is gone."

"Dude, you're not okay. You just faceplanted the floor."

Russia blinked. "Did I really?"

"Alright, you're getting it back." America reached for his pockets. "Crap. Where-?" He dug around some more. "Oh right. Must've left it near the presents." He ran over to the tree, where mountains of presents were already placed, and Finland hadn't even arrived yet. "Um…" He dug around the pile.

"You didn't lose it, did you?" England called over. "Of course not! Come on, what am I, an idiot? Now let's see, uh…" Presents were tossed all across the room. "Nope, nope, nope-crap! Might have left it at the house." Everyone groaned as he headed for the door. "I'll be back! Just-"

"Oh no. You're not driving." England held up the keys. "We'll be back. Russia, you hang in there." America winked. "Don't you die on me!"

"For the last time, I am not dying."

America shut the door. "How fast can you drive?" He took off towards the car only to trip face first into the snow. England pulled him up. "Fast enough." They trudged as quickly as they could through the snow. "Russia's freaking me out," America said, "What's happening to him?"

England shook his head. "Nothing pleasant. And not the first time it's happened, either.

"What?"

They made it to the driveway. "A few centuries back, it'd fallen out as usual, but he ended up losing it for a while." England began. "Whoa, seriously? He lost it? When?"

"Slow down! I said centuries ago, you were still a nice, respectful underling, mind you." He continued, "Anyways, nothing much happened at first, but after a while he began acting strange."

"Like, Russia strange, or really weird even for him strange?"

"The latter. His tone seemed to change." They entered the car. "He looked a little pained at first, and then…" He tapped the wheel. "No emotion. Almost terrifying. Actually, it was literally the most terrifying thing." America shuddered. "That's saying something."

He nodded, shifting into drive. "So it turns out he dropped it during battle, he went back, still there. He put it back in and thankfully, he returned to normal." Flipping on the windshields, they swept off the light sheet of snow that had fallen. "This time, he seems to want to be rid of it though. I don't know what in the blazes would possess him to do that."

"How long have we got?"

"I'd recommend as soon as possible." He shifted onto the icy road. They managed a few minutes of traveling in silence before America commented, "You're driving too slow." England sighed. "Kind of driving on ice here."

"You're driving on the wrong side of the road."

England reluctantly shifted lanes after noticing he was indeed. "Just a habit." He grumbled. America chuckled. "Oh shut up. Australia does it too." He flipped on the radio. "Why don't we relax and listen to some music for a while?" Almost forgetting how the first drive here went, he was treated to another one of America's caroling performances.

He flipped the station. Country music was year-round apparently, and America picked up his interrupted song with that. Flipped it again to a rap station, where he still continued. They went through at least ten stations. By the ninth, he was even screeching along to metal. _Does he want to lose his voice?_ England thought to himself. Finally they arrived, and America flung open the door and ran towards his house.

He tore apart nearly the entire living room, throwing couch cushions across the room and flinging drawers open. Where had he left it? More importantly, how did you lose a heart? He recounted everything before they left. _Okay._ He thought. _So Russia was like,_ " _Hey, don't forget present, da?" and I was like, "Yeah, sure. I'll wrap it with the other stuff. Left in my pocket for some reason-man, that felt weird. Come on, what else?_ He tried to think. _Maybe it fell somewhere…_

Something out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. He ran over to a shoddily, unfinished wrapped box near the staircase. He suddenly remembered: He nearly forgot Russia's present. He made a quick grab for the box; he'd finish it in the car later. Directing his focus back towards finding his own present, he stopped to think.

It suddenly hit him, and a slight wave of embarrassment came over him. The one place he was in for the longest time, but never checked. He bolted back outside, ran towards the car, and swung open the front door. "So uh, England? I think I left it in the car."

England shut his eyes and let out his longest sigh yet. "Wonderful." America held out the unwrapped box. "But hey, it wasn't for nothing. I nearly forgot Russia's present." He went and opened the back door, placing the present down in the middle seat. He dug around under the seats before sure enough: the heart was right there under the passenger's seat. He held it up to England. "Here it is!"

"All right. No time to waste, let's go." England started up the car.

"Can I drive?" America asked. England turned towards him. "Are you serious? Absolutely not. You're sick, you'll kill us with your driving." England merged into the left side of the road again, slamming the brakes when he almost ran into a car making a turn. "Um, see, like that. I'm demonstrating what not to do." He merged into the right lane.

Tuning on the radio to prevent his backseat driving proved to be a mistake yet again, as of course, America knew almost every single word to just about anything. Staying on-key was another story. By his fifth, "Holiday r-o-o-o-o-o-a-d," England slammed his breaks as they finally made their stop. "So help me, I would've made you walk." America rolled his eyes. "Sure. Now come on!"

America was full on hero mode again, trying to run through the snow towards the door. "For the love of- Will you slow down!" Even with a cold, he was hard to keep up with. They finally reached the front door. America threw it open, and the door slamming the wall with a crash, probably leaving a crack the wall behind it. "Don't you die just yet! Guess what we got?" Russia had been moved to the couch, still lying on his back. "I am still not dying, America."

England walked over to Russia, placing a hand on his forehead. He looked to France. "Has he changed at all?" France gestured towards Russia, whose face was noticeably missing his trademark smile and was staring at the ceiling.

"Here ya go." America held out the heart. Russia briefly glanced over at it before looking back at the ceiling. "That is yours." America shook his head. "Know what, I think you really need this. Consider it your early present." Russia continued to gaze at his own beating heart. "Okay." His expression never changing, he placed it on the table.

"Uh, Russia? You're supposed to put it back. However you do that."

"I do not need it right now."

"Well, you kind of do." He looked around to the others. "Right? I mean, this can't be, y'know. You'll live I guess, but..." Estonia spoke up. "Technically, yes. He'll live." Russia gave a short nod. "See? I am fine." Estonia gulped. "I never said that was a good idea."

"France went around without a head."

Everyone in the room turned towards France, America eyes widened. "Wait. Really? How?" France shrugged. "Ah, that. I-" He stopped himself clearing his throat. "A story for another time. Anyways," He turned to Russia. "But a heart is another story. It's an irreplaceable part of you. Where else would you feel?" Russia found his eyes drifting back towards the steady beating heart. "I cannot use it. It is..." His voice trailed off. "It is broken."

The room went quiet, only the crackling of the fireplace heard. America broke the silence. "Then we'll just have to fix it, won't we?" He sat down. "No problem I can't solve! Let's see it." For the second time that night, he picked up the heart, it thumped in his hands. His eyes widened. "Yup, that's real. Okay..." He looked up after a moment and grinned. "Oh yeah, we can fix this." He turned around, pretending to work with it. "All we need is a little patch up, and-" He held it back out. "Merry Christmas. Just give it a little time, should be good as new." Placing the heart into Russia's hands, he smiled. "Don't worry, I'm not that cheap. I got you something over by the tree, too."

Russia's eyes broke out of a trance for a moment, and he glanced towards the heart. "Fixed it?"

His hands cupped around his own beating heart. "But what if it falls again?"

America grinned. "Then we'll catch it."

Slowly, Russia's smile returned. "Thank you." He lifted his heart towards him. "So uh," America looked a little pale, "How do you put it back?" His heart was level with his chest. "I put it back. It is easy." America gulped. "Alright guys, if you're faint at heart, no pun intended, you might wanna look away. Like now." No one else in the room seemed bothered. "Just whenever you're ready. Go ahead." As Russia's hands began to move closer to his chest, America let out a scream.

"What is it?" Everyone turned to him. "N-Nothing. Just saw a spider." He glanced around and picked up a pillow, throwing it at the seemingly empty floor. "Ow!" Canada cried out.

Russia's hands hovered over his chest for a moment, before taking a breath, slipping the heart under his coat. America sighed with relief as it was placed back out of sight. "Better?" Russia took another deep breath before opening his eyes. "Da."" He smiled. "Much better." He sat up, and the other nations sighed with relief as the light seemed to return to his eyes. America cracked another grin. "Ready to get this party started?"

Thumping noises were suddenly heard above. "Hey, right on cue. Here's Finland!" They all went over to the fireplace, Canada quickly putting out the flames right before Finland slid down with a thud, Sweden following short behind him. "Thank you for not doing anything to this roof, America."

* * *

 **One more to go. A little bit later than I'd planned, sorry about that. Thank you to all who've followed this story so far!**


	6. Chapter 6

Everyone shot up faster than Italy running from the battlefield at the sight of the overflowing bag of gifts. "Sorry we're a bit late." Opening the bag, Finland tossed the brightly colored presents around the room. "One for you," He threw one into the crowd. "Could you pass that one to Iceland?" He pulled out another. "Could you pass this one to Den-Hey, where's Denmark?" Norway shrugged. "I thought he went with you."

Rustling came from the fireplace, followed by Denmark's head appearing from the chimney. "Hi!" Half the room screamed as he hit the floor, dust flying everywhere. He jumped into Finland's lap. "So what'd I get?" Sweden glared, dropping the box onto him.

Presents flew left and right, some nations catching them midair while others were smacked in the head and/or other places as they tried to catch theirs. America tore his open the second it met his hands. "Sweet! Thanks, Canada! How'd you know I wanted these?" He pulled out his new headphones from the packaging, placing them over his ears. "Whoa! I can't hear anything!" He yelled.

"Keep down your voice! Do you want to lose it?" England yelled back.

"WHAT?"

"YOU'RE GOING TO LOSE YOUR VOICE IF YOU KEEP YELLING LIKE THAT!"

"…WHAT?"

The two continued their screaming match while everyone continued to open their gifts. China barely had his open, a giant stuffed panda head stuck out of the much smaller box. "That one was a bit of a tight fit. Sorry about that!" Finland called. China's face was hardened with determination as tried to yank it out one last time. With a yell, he chopped the box clean in two with his hand. The panda sank to the floor. "Aiya! I love it!"

"This is cool!" Canada unsheathed his new lightsaber and swung it around.

"America, I have found new present for you!" Russia approached America, who finally had taken off his headphones. "Aw, hey, don't worry about it. Oh, speaking of that." He pulled out the last-minute gift. "Got a little something for you too." Russia took the box. "Yours first."

"No, yours first!"

"Nyet, yours."

"Get a room!" Prussia jumped out from behind tree.

"We open them at the same time." Russia suggested.

"Okay." They both exchanged gifts. "One..."

"Twothree!" They tore into theirs at the same time, America pulling out his first to reveal a red blanket. "Ooh, soft!" He wrapped it over his shoulders. "Thanks!" Russia smiled, pulling out his own sunflower patterned blanket. "So, I found this and was like, "Dude this is so Russia," so I thought you might like it...do you?"

Russia responded with a hug. "Da, I love it. Thank you, America." America grinned as they both pulled back. "No problem." America hugged his blanket over his shoulders. "Man, this is really soft. Kind of like the ones they have in the room upstairs."

"What are you talking about? This lodge does not provide such services. It is good thing I was here, da?"

America smiled. "Well I love it. And yeah, it is pretty awesome that you came here." He hugged him back. "No way you're missing next year's." Russia smiled. "Thank you for having me, America."

"No problem." America cracked a grin. "So we both got each other blankets. You know what this means?"

"We are not as different after all?"

"We can run around the house pretending to be ghosts!" He pulled the blanket over his head. "Follow me!" The two of them ran around the house making demented screaming noises.

By the time all the gifts were open, they could barely see each other over the piles of leftover wrapping paper. England tripped over a ribbon trying to make his way to the edge of the room. "I'll get the bag."

"Movie time!" America ran over to the front room and clicked on the TV. The first thing to come up was the news broadcast. "This just in: After the events that took place at Alfred F. Jones's home this evening, the footage of the inside is just now being released. Exclusive live here on-"

"Way to cover that up!" England panicked, looking towards America. "How's that going to be explained?"

America had already whipped out his phone and had his government on speed dial. "Shut it down, guys!" Within seconds of his call, the TV began blurring. "Here with the only known footage-" The audio began to distort, static flashed across the TV. After a few moments, the picture began to clear to what appeared to be a sitcom, the audio clearing to a laugh track. "All good." America relaxed in his seat.

"That wasn't exactly the smoothest cover up." France shook his head. "What?" America shrugged. "They'll think it's part of the episode or something."

"This is a rerun of _Friends_." England said.

"So this'll be The One With Alfred's Awesome Christmas Party. So anyways, movies. What do you guys think?"

"Krampus!"

"No! What the hell, Prussia? Oh, wait, almost forgot!" He bolted up and raced towards the stairs. "Oi, slow down now! Don't tire yourself out!" England called, as America picked up a microphone at the top of the stairs.

"And now for a-" America began to cough again. "For a special tradition." His voice lower and hoarse. "Canada and I are gonna perform a little-" He coughed again. "-Song. Come on bro, you ready?" Canada reluctantly made his way up the stairs. "America, don't take this the wrong way." He said, "But I'm not sure your voice is in shape this year. Sorry."

"I'm good!" His voice cracked. "Besides, who else could back you up?" He climbed up on the railing. "WHO'S READY TO BRING THE HOUSE DO-" With a final crack, America's voice was gone. "Crap." He whispered. "Hey, you kind of sound like Canada now!" England called from below.

America's eyes looked like he was trying not to panic. "H-Hey, don't worry about it." Canada tried to reassure him. "You should rest your voice. Maybe we could do it later?" America looked crestfallen for a moment, before lighting up. "I'll just do it like Ashlee." He whispered hoarsely.

"What?"

"You know when you-" He coughed. "Do the words but you don't?"

"Oh! You want to lip sync?"

America nodded, mouthing the words: _Whatever it's called_. Canada nodded. "Alright."

Prussia's footsteps were heard rushing upstairs. With a swift movement, he took the mic. "Would you like to use my awesome voice?" America looked hesitant, but reluctantly shrugged. Prussia cracked a grin, leaning over the railing. "WHAT'S UP, LOSERS?" The audience below cheered.

He went over and stood on the side, mic in hand. "Lip syncing here live, please welcome Alfred Simpson!" Applause rang out as America and Canada took center stage above. "So, what were we doing?" Canada turned to ask him. "Told you this morning." America whispered back. "I don't remember. What was it?" America tried to speak, only for his voice to crack again. He began waving his hands. "One word? Two words? Um…" Canada tried to no avail to interpret his signs.

Prussia jumped in. "I think what he's trying to say is, "I love _My Song That Was Written By Me For Me_ , and I the singer is the best of all time, can we please sing that?" America shook his head rapidly. "Well, if you insist! Canada, you know the words?" Canada shook his head. "Good, let's start!" He pulled out his phone, plugging it into his new mini speaker.

"Oh, I remember now!" Canada turned to America. "You wanted to do _Fergalicous_ …Why, exactly?" America shrugged as the music started up. "Really, America?" Prussia shook his head. "Come on, keep it classy! Alright, let's skip to the good part," Prussia tapped his phone to the part where he starts screaming into the mic, his kesesese resonated through the room. He screamed along to it. "I don't see you singing!" America and Canada tried mouthing the words to no avail. Romano booed from below.

The room sounded with applause as the song ended. America and Canada bowed, while Prussia got and and started cackling. A sudden loud knock came from the front door.

"Santa?"

"I'm right here." Finland said.

America slid down the stair railing and ran over to the front, opening the door. A group of carolers was standing on the front porch. "Hey mommy, it's the "Oh hell no" guy!" The kid pointed to Romano. "I saw you on the news!"

"That's enough, Lucas." The mother said. After a brief, much less screamo-like song, they were applauded. "You and your family have a Happy Holidays!" The carolers waved, making their way back to their cabin. America shut the door. "See, Romano? You are good with kids!" Italy patted his brother's back. "Seriously, why does everyone think we're all related?" Romano muttered.

The party continued through the night, attempts to lower the noise were given up even with the lack of the yelling American. Finally tiring himself out after running around for an hour, America crashed on the couch. "He's completely out." England poked his shoulder, and was only met with more snoring.

He glanced at the clock. It was hardly 10, probably the earliest he's ever crashed. While the others seemed to be calmed down, Prussia was still dancing on the tabletops. "Canada, could you help me move him upstairs?"

They slowly lifted him from the couch. "Careful, now. Easy..."

"Is he doing the sleeping now?"

England nearly dropped America on his head as Russia appeared seemingly out of nowhere. "Yes, he's had quite the night. But I think he's had enough." He shook his head. "This idiot works himself so hard sometimes..."

Russia handed him America's blanket. "Make sure he has rest." England let of trace of a smile cross his face. "Thank you for taking care of him." His face was flushing red. "You know. He could've done something stupid without you to-"

A loud snore almost made him drop America again. "Bloody hell, he snores like a steam engine."

"Do you need help carrying him?"

"Oh no, that's fine. I've still got some strength from my pirate days-" His arms finally gave way, barely dropping him this time. Russia caught him just in time, lifting him with ease. "...That works too."

They carried him up the stairs into the main room, placing him on the bed. "Happy Christmas, moron." England tucked him in, Canada set his glasses by the bedside, and Russia fluffed his pillow. America continued snoring as the hallway light creaked closed with the door...

He woke up and remembered he forgot the most important part. Daylight barely streamed through the blinds, the house noticeably quieter. Christmas day, right on time. He shot out of bed, his headache a little more clear than yesterday but still fuzzy, and bolted down the stairs.

"Guys-" What little of his voice cracked. He glanced around the room. Surprisingly and thankfully, most hadn't left, some crashed on the floor while the Nordics looked like they fell asleep fighting over the couch.

Crap. How do I wake them up? He got a slightly cruel yet effective idea. Stepping over Prussia, who'd passed out by the kitchen entrance, he pulled out a pair of pots and pans from the cabinets. He ran around the room, banging them together. Within seconds, he could hear reactions.

"UGHHHHH."

"What the hell?"

"Five more minutes..."

"America, stop that racket immedia-" England's head sank back to the table. America went up closer to him. "Fine, fine! I'm up!" He grumbled.

Back in the living room, annoyed muttering could be heard across the room as everyone slowly woke. "What. Was. That." Romano looked ready to smack someone upside the head with whatever was making that sound.

America threw the pans down, almost everyone jolting awake at the sound of the clattering on the floor. He began making hand motions. "What?" Canada groaned. "Two words...camera?" America nodded. Canada sighed. "A Christmas card picture? Now?" He nodded, pulling out his phone and motioning for everyone to get together. Everyone groaned in response.

After somehow rounding up all the nations together, even having to drag Prussia across the floor, America set up his phone on a last minute camera stand of books. With a final thumbs up, he turned on the camera app, setting it on a timer. He ran over and slid on the tile over to his spot.

He thought: I'll just casually slide into the shot in an awesome fashion.

He didn't think: I'll trip over Prussia, elbow France in the face, and land on top of three other nations.

But that's what happened anyways, as the perfectly timed photo was snapped, and because he'd left his phone on all night, the battery died, preventing him from deleting it right away. So if one were ever to wonder why there's a picture on America's phone of him landing in Russia's lap while half-asleep nations scream in horror, they'd remember that one year. That one Christmas at America's.

 **The End**

* * *

 **Well that was fun. Thank you guys for following this story!**


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